


you miss 100% of the shots you don't take

by colazitron



Category: Union J (Band)
Genre: M/M, x-Factor au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-22
Updated: 2014-07-22
Packaged: 2018-02-10 00:50:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2004585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colazitron/pseuds/colazitron
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>George's laptop is stolen. He goes to buy a new one and ends up with a little something extra.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you miss 100% of the shots you don't take

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aimmyarrowshigh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aimmyarrowshigh/gifts).



There’s a particularly unsettling queasy feeling reserved for when you can’t find something, George thinks, rifling through his suitcase for the fifteenth time, because he’s one hundred percent sure that’s where he’s left his laptop. He’s already dug through the bed (these fluffy duvets can conceal almost anything) but only found a stray sock and a tangle of headphones he thinks maybe belong to Ella. Then he’s moved on to the mess on the desk in the corner of the hotel room, but while that has been piled high with bibs and bobs and t-shirts, there has been no laptop. There’s none underneath the pile of clothes on the chair in front of the desk either. Truthfully, there’s no laptop in this room, and the sinking feeling in his gut knows that already, but George simply refuses to give in to that feeling. He can’t have  misplaced his  laptop . George is not the kind of person that misplaces things as large, heavy and  valuable as his laptop. And not just in the monetary sense either. It had  everything on it. Sure, he backs most of his important files up on an external drive that he’s already found so not all is lost, but that’s just for the important stuff. Portfolios and school work and applications and thankfully all of his music and films and tv episodes, but he still wants his laptop back.

 

With a sigh he straightens up from the floor and stretches his arms over his head, wiggling left to right and waiting for the little cracks to settle his spine back where it’s supposed to go, or whatever actually happens when you stretch. Maybe he’s left it in Ella’s room. Maybe they were watching a film and he fell asleep in her bed and left the laptop in a hazy morning rush of getting ready and getting to rehearsal. Maybe.

 

Slipping the key card in his pocket, he trots down the corridor to the rooms on the other side of the lift, once again amused by how they’re actually separated by gender with all the boys on one side and all the girls on the other side. No one’s really got time to do anything but practice and be nervous on the show, and if they did, a fourty five second walk down a hotel corridor would not stop them. But, he guesses, it’s all for show more than anything else anyway.

 

“Hey, Georgie,” Ella says when she swings the door open to his knocks. “Need something?”

 

“Have I left my laptop with you last time?” George asks, simultaneously trying to remember when that last time was. Or exactly what day it is. Monday, right? Yeah, he’d started the new song properly today. Definitely Monday.

 

“I don’t think so,” Ella says, eyebrows drawing together and stepping aside to let George in. “But we can look. Can you not find it?”

 

“No,” George says, eyebrows feeling like a truly epic frown. Ella pouts at him in sympathy and then helps him look around her far more organised room. Unsurprisingly it doesn’t turn up.

 

“Shit,” George says, the ball of sinking realisation filling up with worry about what to do now.

 

“Is it definitely not in your room?” Ella asks, sitting down next to him on her bed. George shakes his head.

 

“Definitely.”

 

“You’ve not taken it anywhere else, have you?”

 

“Nah, only brought it for entertainment.”

 

“Well, you’ll have to tell the hotel! What if it’s been stolen?” she says and George hasn’t even considered that until now.

 

“Shit,” he says again. She nods and puts her head on his shoulders.

 

“Want me to come with?”

 

“Please,” he says and rakes a hand through his hair. Moral support is never something he turns down.

  
  


The guy at the front desk seems unwilling to help two teenagers claiming a room might’ve been broken into at first, but once they start throwing around X-Factor names it’s remarkable how pleasantly and quickly he finds them the chief of security to deal with the matter. As the security tapes show, there is indeed someone bloke George has never seen walking into his room and back out with his laptop. The management of the hotel apologises profusely for the breach of security and inconvenience and get the police involved immediately who in turn promise to get it back.

 

A few days later they’ve got nothing to go on and seem quite a bit like their tails would be tucked between their legs if they had any while they explain to him in fancy terms what boils down to “sorry, you’re not getting your laptop back after all”. The hotel of course offers to reimburse George, pay for a replacement model, and The X-Factor issue a statement about how serious they take their contestants’ safety and that security will be tightened and they’ll make sure nothing like this will happen again. George sulks because it happened to him in the first place, but accepts the hotel’s money and waits for next Monday. Theoretically he’s got a bit of time on Friday, but Fridays are always the worst for nerves. Saturdays he’s usually kept busy with rehearsing and having his face painted and hair teased for the telly, so he’s good at pretending that he’s not so nervous then. But Fridays are what he brought his laptop for. For when he needs a distraction.

 

So instead of watching an episode of Breaking Bad, he has a leisurely but mediocre wank in the shower and then falls into bed with his headphones in and music loud enough to drown out the rustling of the sheets and potential knocks on the door. Ella knows to text him if she needs him and everyone else can cope with thinking he’s already asleep. It doesn’t take long for that to be the case at any rate.

  
  


Come Monday no one seems to want to give up their free time to accompany George down to Oxford Street, so he hops on the tube by himself and ambles about by himself. He’d had to google the closest electronics store, completely unused to not just going down to his trusted little non chain store back home where everyone knows his name from how much time he spends there. At least this time money’s not going to be an issue.

 

He browses the rows at PC World by himself for a bit, before he’s approached by one of their sales people.

 

“Hi there,” a boyish voice says, startling him out of reading through the specs of this particular Vaio. When George looks up he’s met with a smiling young face, would-be-former-Bieber-hair-if-it-were-longer and a thick black frame of glasses he’s almost entirely sure are fake. The name tag on the company issue polo shirt says ‘Josh’.

 

“Need any help?” Josh asks and George feels for a moment like he should give his name just so they’re on equal footing. Then again, he’s never actually heard anyone address sales people by their name, even if they do wear a name tag. It’s probably just to make them seem more approachable, he thinks and then remembers that he should probably give an answer.

 

“Not really? My laptop was stolen recently and I’m just looking to replace it,” he says. For a moment Josh makes a face like he’s not sure why anyone would commit such a heinous crime before it smoothes out into polite sympathy.

 

“That’s tough, mate. Getting the same model then? You should maybe get an external drive so you’ll not lose any data if that ever happens again.”

 

“I’ve got one,” George says, both amused by the sympathy-sale and offended by the insinuation. He’s not an  amateur .

 

“Oh,” Josh says, close-lipped smile faltering for a moment before he pulls it back into place. It seems to take more effort than smiling should, George thinks. Then again, he works in  retail so George is definitely not gonna judge him for that. (Plus, in the split second Josh inadvertently pouts at George he thinks he’s actually kind of nice to look at.)

 

“Um, which model did you have? I could go get it for you...” Josh offers.

 

Usually George doesn’t really like when strangers, particularly strangers who are trying to sell him something, hover around him, but Josh just seems to genuinely want to help and George finds himself not exactly minding his presence.

 

“Oh. I... I’m not actually sure if I want to get the exact same one. It  was already three years old. Still worked fine and all but now that I’ve got the opportunity... you know?”

 

“Oh, yeah, sure,” Josh says and nods, his still close-lipped smile seeming a bit more sincere now. “Well, what specs did you have? Maybe we can find you the upgraded model - or another one if you’re not necessarily looking to stick with the make?”

 

George has, to be honest, not expected to encounter this kind of help when he came in. In his experience the people working in chain stores don’t really know much more than whatever it says on the box, but Josh proves to be actually helpful. He points out the three newest models in George’s price range and even manages to answer all of George’s questions about RAM and the graphic rendering.

 

“There’s a great recording package that just came out that runs really well on this one,” Josh points out, patting the last laptop with his hand. George looks up from it to frown quizzically at Josh.

 

“Um. If that’s something that interests you,” Josh adds, eyes wide. They stare at each other for a few seconds until Josh visibly deflates and then gives a hesitant smile - the first one that shows his slightly crooked teeth.

 

“Um. You’re George Shelley, right? Off X-Factor?” he asks. George nods.

 

“Is that creepy that I know that? It’s just your face is on telly every weekend so... but I didn’t know what to say or if I should even, like, say  anything but then I just remembered the SoundBooth pack and thought, you know, you could maybe use it or...? Sorry.” Josh finishes his little ramble and George thinks there might very well be a slight blush that sits high on his (admittedly impressive) cheekbones.

 

“Um. Thanks?” George says because so far Josh hasn’t been creepy and he guesses it’s kind of sweet of him to think to recommend the recording software to George. “I mostly design on it, to be honest but I guess maybe I should look into that? Be positive and all?”

 

“Exactly!” Josh says, smile growing. “It’s always good to be able to listen back to yourself singing.”

 

"Do you sing?" George finds himself asking. Josh's eyes betray his surprise a bit, like he didn't expect George to talk to him anymore than George expected to talk to him.

 

"I, er... used to, " Josh says. Probably George shouldn't pry. It's really none of his business.

 

"Why did you stop?" he asks and then mentally berates himself for it. What was that about none of his business? Josh makes a face that George can't decipher but he's pretty certain means something along the lines of 'I'd rather not talk about it'. George Shelley everybody. The boy with the foot permanently wedged in his mouth.

 

"I tried out for X-Factor actually," Josh says.

 

"Didn't work out?" George asks, even though that part is pretty obvious.

 

"Not really, no," Josh says. He's smiling through it so George hopes he's alright with it. Hopes he's not put his foot in it too much. “Our manager...” Josh starts and then stops, shooting George a little look. George hopes he at least look excited or inviting now that he’s asked.

 

“Well, I was in this three piece... boyband, I guess. Our manager dropped us after we didn’t get through boot camp.”

 

“Ouch,” George says. That doesn’t seem particularly nice.

 

“Yeah. I’d been working with him for a couple years and nothing he ever did worked out so it’s probably not a big loss. Like, I couldn’t go on auditioning for The Wanted cause he’d committed me to something else.”

 

“You wouldn’t want to be in The Wanted anyway,” George says, but knows that it probably doesn’t take much of the sting out of an experience like that. After two close brushes like that he’s not sure he’d have kept trying.

 

Josh laughs.

 

“They were nice enough when I met them.”

 

George only shrugs. He never has and since he’s not in a group he doubts he will. It’d be way more fun if they got One Direction or Little Mix to come in for the groups anyway. They were actually  on X-Factor. They know what they’re talking about.

 

“Anyway. Your laptop?”

 

“Right!” George says and lets out a nervous giggle. He’d actually forgotten what he came for. “I’ll go with the Lenovo. You’ve convinced me.”

 

Josh grins at him, still no teeth, George notes and wonders if that’s something Josh has to consciously do; he can’t imagine smiling without showing his teeth, and then goes to grab the right box from the shelf. The Laptop box itself is locked into a see-through plastic box that Josh explains they’ll unlock at the cash register and the next thing George knows he’s out on the street, new laptop in a plastic bag and yet weirdly feels like he’s missing something. He pats down his pockets, finds his wallet and phone and shrugs it off. It’ll not be the first time he’s felt that way.

  
  


Ella comes over to chat at him while he sets up his new laptop and he tries to listen to her but new technology always makes him a bit single-minded. She doesn’t seem bothered though, so he supposes that’s good. In the end, they start watching a film and both fall asleep halfway through it. George wakes up some time around 2 am, sets the laptop down onto the floor, wriggles out of his jeans and slips back under the covers. Ella doesn’t stir.

 

Tuesday passes in a blur of rehearsals, Wednesday tends to be super stressful, because it’s when everyone feels like they’re never gonna make it and by the time George stumbles out of his final rehearsal (before the dress rehearsal on Saturday) on Friday, he’s pretty sure the loop of his song is the only thing happening in his brain. There’s still a bit of Friday left and Ella’s got a timeslot later than him this time, so George isn’t quite sure what to do. A shower, first. And food. But then...?

 

His new laptop sits unassumingly on top of the table - right where he put it - and George sits down on the edge of the bed to put on his socks and ends up just staring at it.

 

He could set up the tablet and doodle a bit.

 

He could get out his guitar.

 

He could... nah.

 

He could watch some Breaking Bad.

 

He could watch anything else. The internet’s not  just for porn.

 

He could nap.

 

Or he could...

 

A shaky exhale later, he finds himself slipping on his shoes and grabbing his phone and wallet - making sure the hotel key card is right where it’s supposed to be - and only moments later, walking out the lobby and slipping his sunglasses onto his nose. Is he really...? His heart’s beating a little more harshly than necessary in his chest and there’s a complicated knot where his intestines used to be, but he takes another breath and then sets off towards the tube station. The tube ride and ensuing walk are spent with his headphones in, trying so hard to quiet his nerves with the beats of whatever song he lands on.

 

As he steps back inside PC World he’s hit with the horrible thought that he doesn’t even know Josh’s schedule. He might not even be in today. George may have given in to an utterly absurd impulse just to come to a humiliating non-result.

 

But Josh is in and he spots George about at the same time George spots him. He smiles and then frowns as he walks over.

 

“Something not alright with the laptop?” he asks. George supposes that would make sense, if he were here about that.

 

“Oh, um, no. It’s fine.”

 

“Oh,” Josh says, clearly at a loss. George fidgets and tries to swallow the toad that’s taken up residence in his throat. He’s pretty sure any more of this and his heart’s just going to leap out of his chest.

 

“Would you like to go for coffee with me some time?” he asks and immediately feels the hot rush of nerves and embarrassment flush up the back of his neck. God, why why why would he actually go through with this? Josh is pretty, he’s not gonna want George, he probably has an equally pretty  girl waiting for him somehow and-

 

“Yeah,” Josh says, smile showing slightly crooked teeth for the first time. “Yeah, I really would.”

 

Oh.

 

George blinks once, twice and then giggles, helplessly. Even as he ducks his head to get the sound under control, a big smile stays firmly spread over his face.

 

“Yeah?” he asks, just to make sure. Josh’s smile twitches into something a little more amused and a little more cocky.

 

“Yeah,” he says. And then, when George doesn’t follow it up, “Are you not going to ask for my number?”

 

“Oh, yes, of course!” George says, startling out of his slight bewilderment and pulling his phone out of his pocket. He watches gleefully as Josh puts in his number and then calls his own phone, trying hard not to bounce on his feet. They make vague plans for Monday since George doesn’t really know... anything and then, because poor impulse control has been great for him so far, George leans in and kisses Josh on the cheek. Josh’s eyes widen in obvious surprise, but he smirks at George when he pulls back, probably flaming red in the face.

 

“I don’t kiss on the first date,” he says. George laughs. It’s okay. Neither does he.

 

 

** The End **


End file.
